


First thought first words

by Anarchy-Schmanarchy (Murder_Schmurder)



Series: Soulmate AUs are pog [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hybrid AU, M/M, Mentions of Death, Platonic Soulmates, Soulmate AU, but like backstory, dreamsmp characters, first thought soulmate au, not actually shippy, not permanent tho, not using character tags lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28986678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murder_Schmurder/pseuds/Anarchy-Schmanarchy
Summary: Somehow, the championship is both exactly the place Quackity would expect to meet his soulmate, and where he’s the least prepared for it.Soulmate au where your soulmate's first thought about you are tattooed on your body. Quackity's soulmate is a bastard and he doesn't like them. What kind of asshole sees him and thinks "Free Kill" anyway?
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Alexis | Quackity/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Soulmate AUs are pog [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126109
Comments: 9
Kudos: 540





	First thought first words

Quackity didn’t get the point of the soulmarks. Like, it was cool to know what your soulmate’s first thought of you would be - kind of romantic, if you were into that sort of thing.

Oh, and also if your soulmark wasn’t fucking stupid. Which his was. 

The thing was… It didn’t exactly help people find each other? He’d read enough romances entirely focused around the many ways it could be mistaken for him to think anything else, even if he’d never admit it. (And if anyone accused him of reading romance novels he would punt them into next week). 

And that was if your soulmate was something sensible, something that a normal person would think.

Not fucking  _ Free Kill!  _ stamped across his back in big, broad letters.

Like. What the fuck. Quackity could not believe that even his soulmate was mocking him for his absolute lack of combat skills. It was entirely unfair. Nothing about his charisma, nothing about his way with words and lovely playing or any of his other many, many redeeming qualities. 

No. It was about murdering him. 

In a way, it did narrow down the possibilities a bit, at least. He’d take what he could get, and in the meantime, just… keep living his life.

  
  


Which led him to this day. 

Somehow, the championship is both exactly the place Quackity would expect to meet his soulmate, and where he’s the least prepared for it.

Like, it makes sense. He spends too much time there, trying to craft a name for himself, laughing and heckling and flirting with the audience as he gets killed over and over and  _ over _ again. He goes through partners like one night stands, no one able to stand his energy for more than a few battles, but he doesn’t care. He’s carving out a space for himself damnit, and no one got big by just sitting on their ass. 

He’s focused, determined to do his best. The entire championship had gone by in a haze, and Quackity knew he wasn’t about to win, but he’d be damned if he’d give up just because of that.

But the moment he hears the words echo across the forest where he and his partner are desperately digging for gear, his brain goes still.

“Free kill!”

And a second later he’s parrying a heavy axe, staring straight into the wide, blood-red eyes of the biggest bastard he’s never met.

He knows exactly what to say to the man he’s supposed to share a soul with, but still doesn’t see him as more than another point on the scoreboard. His first thoughts are his first words, no filter, never a filter with him.

“Fuck off!” he yells, wholeheartedly, and the moment of shock he sees in his opponent’s eye is enough for him to shove the bastard off and level his sword at his throat, wings flaring behind him in anger.

They’re frozen for a moment, breaths heaving, taking each other in. The other man - his fucking  _ soulmate _ ,  _ stars above _ \- is slightly shorter than him, but looks like he could flip Quackity over his shoulder without breaking a sweat. He’s also a hybrid - piglin, if Quackity had to guess. There’s gold glittering in his ears and in his hair and something in Quackity bristles at the show of power.

Then the guy shoves his sword aside with his axe and  _ lunges  _ for him. Quackity squawks and dodges, leaping onto a nearby tree buffeted by his wings. He’s pretty sure his battle partner is dead. He’s entirely sure he doesn’t care, scowling at his soulmate. Quackity glares down, smacking away the axe with his sword.

“What the fuck, dude! We’re soulmates, you can’t kill me!” he yells, and he sees the guy’s partner freeze, looking between them. His soulmate snorts out a laugh.

“Listen it’s for the points, I gotta clean,” he says, tone slightly unhinged, and fuck that voice does things to Quackity. He doesn’t know how to react, so he falls back on his first and last defense: shitty jokes.

“I can’t believe this, we met like five seconds ago and you’re trying to kill me already? This is like third date stuff, dude!” he jeers, and he pretty much expects the axe swing that almost clips his ankles. He jumps it, glides over to another tree, still keeping his soulmate in sight. He’s following Quackity with his eyes, axe at the ready, and Quackity can’t help but preen under the attention. At least until he speaks. 

“A fight’s a fight, dude, and Technoblade never dies. I’ll buy you a coffee with the prize money, okay?” he - Technoblade, and Quackity is pretty sure he’s heard that name before but before he can think, the leaves under him are gone and he falls, finding himself under his soulmate’s axe. The two of them locking eyes for a moment. Quackity scowls.

“You’re buying me dinner you son of a -” 

_ Technoblade Destroyed Quackity. _

Quackity wakes up at the respawn with a loud swear and stomps to the leaderboard as soon as he can.

Technoblade is in first place. According to the previous leaderboards, it isn’t the first time. There’s people around him, talking and watching the screens that broadcast the event. Quackity kind of spitefully hopes they caught their exchange. 

He finds out more about Technoblade as he waits for the last bouts to finish. Hardcore-born, spent entirely too many years in the bedwars battlegrounds. Cocky and loud and never dies, apparently. 

Quackity already dislikes the man. This only makes it worse. What kind of sick irony pairs him with some sort of - fighting legend? It’s fucked up. He knows, logically, that it isn’t Technoblade’s fault, but the jealousy and feelings of inferiority claws at him all the same.

The bastard killed him within a minute of finding out their soulmates. Quackity thinks he’s earned the right to be bitter.

Once the battle is over, and the event too, everyone cheering for the reigning champions, Quackity elbows to the front. Techno is there, smiling stiffly for the crowd, until his eyes land on Quackity. Quackity is glaring, and the bastard looks sheepish, at least.

When the small celebration is over and people begin dispersing, some in groups and some alone, Technoblade walks over to Quackity, crown wandering between his fingers in what Quackity can recognise as a long-held nervous tic with how he doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing it.

The silence stretches icily. Quackity isn’t going to be the one to break it.

“So, uh, sorry for murderin’ you in there and all. No hard feelings?” 

His voice is even more lovely out here, smooth like chocolate and Quackity is not going to forgive him this easily, he is  _ not _ . 

“You killed me within a minute of realizing we’re soulmates, you realize how fucked up that is?” he says, and Technoblade sort of flinches. 

  
“Yeah, uh, I - sorry? You did sign up for it.” 

Quackity wants to scream into his hands. The bastard is right, is the worst part. Now that he’s standing right in front of Quackity, looking small and awkward and sort of hopeful, Quackity can’t quite hold on to his righteous anger. 

“I guess,” he sighs, and Technoblade seems to relax, just the slightest bit. 

“I, uh, if it’s any consolation, I’ve had “fuck off” written across my chest for most of my life, so - “

Technoblade’s voice is rumbling with cautious joy, and Quackity can’t help the loud cackle he lets out.

“That’s what you fucking get,” he says between laughs, and Technoblade’s own laugh smooths across his bitterness like balm.

  
“I guess,” he says, and Quackity grins.

“I can’t believe your first thought of me had absolutely nothing to do with my choice ass,” he says, and cackles even more when his soulmate goes entirely red. He’s less cocky off the battlefield, he muses, glancing around and seeing how some people are looking furtively at them. As much as Quackity likes being the center of attention, he’s not interested in sharing this with the class.

He holds out a hand. 

“The name’s Quackity, and you owe me like, the nicest dinner.” 

The man in front of him blinks slowly, grasping Quackity’s hand in his. The hand is warm and firm, scuffed with callouses. 

“‘M Techno, and, uh, yeah, I can do that. You wanna get out of here?” 

And usually Quackity would join the afterparty and cause some absolute chaos, but this… this seems more interesting. 

“Yeah, let’s. I know this one place, you are getting me the most expensive thing on the menu and then let’s figure this out, yeah?” 

Techno nods, wordless, and Quackity realizes he hasn’t let go off his hand yet. He finds he doesn’t mind as they turn and make their way out of the building.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.


End file.
